A Night To Remember
by blacklitchick
Summary: Two souls have a night filled with serendipity. [One-shot Richonne Fic]


**A/N** : This was an original story I wrote, but I re-read it recently and realized there was a Richonne flavor to it. So I decided to adapt it to our favorite couple. Enjoy!

* * *

She loved wearing white on white in the summertime. The color made her brown skin pop, especially when she had her summer glow going on. Even still she rarely wore it. She hated the constant feeling of being one bad spill or accident away from ruining her outfit. Though that night she decided to toss all of her rules away. It was her favorite bar and it was a special night. She looked divine in her decadence with a form-fitting white dress as she grooved to the baseline of the old school New Jack Swing the DJ was spinning. Her long locs whipped to the beat with every bounce of her head and pop of her fingers as she danced in her seat on the bar stool.

Her attention was on the dance floor - as she watched the patrons in various states of rhythm - when she felt a presence behind her and sighed internally. She wasn't up for any mindless conversation from the latest guy trying to pick her up for a one-night stand. Her eyes cut to the side as she took in the profile of the man standing there. His formal, black suit looked out of place in the small bar. His head was turned away from her as he tried to get the attention of the bartender. She twirled around fully on the stool and took him in.

He was about average height and slim, but she could see he had a well-defined body underneath that suit. Flecks of grey were mixed in with both his hair and beard. As if he felt her staring he turned towards her. His eyes made a rush go through her body. It looked as if his whole world lived in his eyes. There was sadness and kindness, intensity and charm there. And a million other things she couldn't decipher but suddenly wanted to.

Her lips turned up in a smile and she felt herself blush when he smiled back.

He nodded at the stool next to hers. "May I?"

His deep country accent intrigued her. It felt out of place yet charming as they sat in the heart of a large metropolis.

"You may."

The bartender finally noticed him and came over to take his order. "What you having, sir?"

"I'll take a bourbon. And the lady will have…" He looked over at her.

"Bourbon sounds good."

The bartender sat two glasses in front of them and began pouring the brown liquor. Both watched the man closely as if they didn't know yet what to say to each other yet. Once done, the bartender pushed the glasses towards them and left to take care of his other customers. The man raised his glass to her and she did the same. They clinked them in a toast before sipping on the drinks.

"I wouldn't have taken you for a Bourbon drinker," he said finally breaking the ice.

"You thought I would want something fruity, with a tiny umbrella in it?"

"Maybe not the umbrella, but definitely something fruity."

"If we had been sitting her about ten or so years ago you would have been right. I've streamed lined my liquor choices over the years. Nothing too complicated or out there. A nice whiskey or a dry red wine are usually my go to's. With an occasional martini drown into the mix."

"A woman after my own heart. Though I'm not much of a wine drinker. I prefer a good craft beer instead."

"I'm not into beer, but I've heard this place has some good ones on tap."

He smiled at her. "I'll keep that in mind."

His smile made his eyes even more expressive. She dropped her gaze to stare down into her glass. She absentmindedly played with her hair and took a breath. When she looked back over to him he was staring straight ahead as he as he brought the glass back to his mouth.

"You seem out of place here," she said. "Most people are dressed nice, but you look like you just came from a funeral in that suit."

His laugh was short and dry as he took a bigger gulp of his drink. "Just left the widow's house an hour ago."

"Yeah, right."

"No, seriously."

His gaze fell on her again, and she looked deep into his eyes. There was no humor or teasing there. She knew he was telling the truth. "Oh, no. I'm so sorry. I was just being flippant. I didn't mean to –"

He raised his hand to cut her off. "No need to apologize. You couldna known."

"I still feel like an ass."

"No worries, Pretty Lady."

She looked down and blushed again. She normally didn't let guys - especially ones she just met - make her feel like a teen with her first crush. She sat up straighter and pulled her shoulders back trying to regain her composure.

"Well, thank you for understanding, Man In Black."

He chuckled again. This time with a twinkle of humor in his eyes. "I'm no Johnny Cash."

"I was thinking more along the lines of Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones."

"I'm surely not them either."

She crossed her legs and pulled down her skirt. His accent was getting deeper the more he sipped on his bourbon. It was doing things to her she wasn't ready to acknowledge.

"The funeral," she started trying to keep her mind from going where it didn't need to, "Was it someone you were close to?"

"Not really. He was a friend of a friend. I just went for support."

"It's still has to be rough being around all that grieving."

"It was. The guy was young. Only in his early thirties. Left behind a wife and kid. By all accounts he was a good man. Makes you question everything about life."

"I know that all too well."

He looked at her closely as if he was trying to see inside her then nodded. "Yeah, I bet you do."

She raised her glass up again. "A toast to the departed. May he rest in peace and may his loved ones find comfort in these trying times."

He raised his glass. "Pax Domini sit semper vobiscum."

She tilted her head at him and raised her eyebrow.

"It's Latin. Means the peace of the Lord be with you all. Grew up going to mass every Sunday. Heard it a lot there."

"I wouldn't peg you as a Catholic."

"Lapsed Catholic."

She raised her hand up as if testifying. "Lapsed Baptist."

"Look at us with somethin' in common besides drankin' alone on a Friday night."

She smiled down into her bourbon. "Look indeed."

He drowned his drink and held his glass up to motion to the bartender for another round for the both of them. He turned on his stool so he could face her head on. "So now you know why I'm here alone. What's your story?"

She paused before answering and looked him over deciding if she wanted to tell him or not. "It's my birthday."

He raised an eyebrow. "You celebrating alone?"

She shrugged. "I was here with friends, but I sent them home. I wanted one more drink before I called it a night."

He looked at his watch. "It's only 10:30. That's pretty early to cut a birthday celebration short."

"Turning thirty-eight is not such a big deal. Now, forty is when I'll really party."

"Thirty-eight? You don't look like you're in your thirties let alone at the end of 'em."

"We've been having such a nice convo and now you start with the cheesy pick-up lines."

He looked down with a sheepish smile. He scratched behind his ear before answering. "I really didn't mean that as a line. You're just," he looked her down from head to toe, "really vibrant and beautiful. Can't blame a guy for noticing'."

Her hands gripped her cheeks as she felt the warmth of a blush flush through her skin again. "Are all the guys with accents like yours this charming or are you just special?"

He smiled at her. "Well, my mama always did say I was one in a million."

"I've only known you," she looked at her watch, "About a half an hour, but I think she may be right about that."

The DJ started playing a song that she was unfamiliar with. It sounded like something one of her teenage nephews liked the listen to. As the hour grew later the crowd in the bar started leaning more towards people below the age of twenty-five than the over thirty crowd that was there when she first arrived.

She put her hand of his forearm. "It's getting a bit crowded in here. What do you say we go somewhere else and have some fun?"

He looked down at her hand on his arm and looked back up at her with a smile. "I thought you weren't up for celebrating?"

"It wasn't the celebrating I was having trouble with. I didn't want any long goodbyes."

He remained silent, but looked at her expectantly waiting for an explanation.

"Today's my last day in town. I have a flight tomorrow at noon to Venice."

"Birthday vacation?"

"No. It's a one-way ticket. I'm traveling the world."

He tilted his head to the side looking impressed. "For how long?"

"I don't know. Could be for just a year. Could be forever."

"That's a pretty big change."

"I know, but sometimes a change is needed." She creased her brow. "Sometimes you have to shake up life, you know."

He shook his head. "I wish I did know, but I come from a place where people don't really change all that much. You're born, you grow up, get a job, a wife, and kids and then you die."

"Sounds to me, my new stranger friend, that you need a little adventure." She slipped off the stool and grabbed her purse. "Let's go."

He motioned to the bartender for his bill. She tried to avoid his gaze as he his eyes turned intense and looked her over as he waited for the bartender to bring back his credit card.

He followed her outside once the bill was paid. "Where to, Pretty Lady?"

"Let's just go with the flow." She stuck out her hand. "I'm Michonne, by the way."

His larger hand enveloped hers and he shook it up and down. "Nice to meet you. I'm Rick."

* * *

The night wasn't clear. Clouds moved above, covering up all the lights in the sky. There were enough street lights lit up and down the busy street to make up for the disappearance of the moon. They passed a bar or club down every block they walked. Loud music and general revelry came through the open doors.

Despite only knowing each other a short while, there was a contentment in their silence as they walked closely together. Every few steps their arms brushed against each other making the bangles on her arm jingle. They didn't feel the need to cut into the night with mindless chatter just to fill up the space. Their conversation flowed in natural rhythms.

"You know this city pretty well?" He asked after they walked about five blocks.

"You can say that. I've lived here since graduating from college."

"Seems like a fun place."

"It has its moments. Are you just a visitor or a transplant?"

"Just visitin'. Was here for a conference when my friend asked me to go to the funeral with him."

"How are you liking it here?"

"It's…different. I'm from a small town in the middle of the state. Our nightlife don't look a thing like this. If you even can call it a nightlife."

"Let me guess. One bar where everybody knows your name."

He nodded and smiled at her. "Somethin' like that."

"I think I'd go crazy in a town like that. This city does have a certain magnetism to it. I'm going to miss it." A car full of young guys flew passed them on the street as they waited to cross. The driver blew the horn as all of them yelled out a slew up pick-up lines and kissing noises at her. She sighed. "It also has a certain degeneration that I won't miss at all. It's very Jekyll and Hyde."

"Is that why you leaving?"

"No. Like I said before, I needed a change. Better to make the changes yourself before life does it for you."

"I can respect that. Life has a way of surprising you."

"Indeed. You said you were here for a conference. What do you do?"

"I'm a photographer. It was a conference for painters, photographers, and other artists."

"Really? Wow, I'm impressed."

"Surprised that a small-town yokel actually appreciates the arts."

She waved her hands at him. "No, no. Not at all. I just really admire artists because I can't draw a straight line or take a picture without my thumb covering the lens."

He laughed. "Don't be too impressed. I mostly take wedding and engagement photos. A few graduation pics too. I like to go out in the mountains on my days off though. Take nature photos. Always wanted to work for National Geographic magazine."

"My dad used to love reading those. He swore he was going to be an archeologist one day."

"What stopped him?"

"A wife and two kids. The salary and benefits of being a high school history teacher wasn't something he could have gotten following a dream."

"Maybe he could do it once he retires."

She shook her head. "Unfortunately, he passed on a year ago."

He placed his hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry to hear that, Michonne."

She patted his hand. "Yeah, so was I." She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. "Enough of that. We're supposed to be celebrating my birthday and I want to go dancing."

"I'm not exactly a good dancer."

She looked him up and down. "You got a certain swag to your walk. I'm sure you'll do all right."

"I'm not sure I know what swag is," he laughed, "But don't be disappointed when I embarrass you."

She laughed. "If you do, I'll leave you standing there like I don't know you."

That earned her a big, belly laugh she'd yet to hear from him. "You're somethin' else, Pretty Lady." He hooked his arm with hers. "So where are we going to dance?"

The base of the music could be heard east of where they stood. "I know just the place. Every Friday there's a patio party at this entertainment center down the street. Let's hit it."

The place was rocking with drinks, laughs, and good times flowing through the crowd once they reached the patio. She did a quick scan of the area hoping she didn't see anyone she knew. She was having too much fun being "Pretty Lady" that night, she wanted to keep Michonne on the backburner.

They found an empty spot of the dance floor just as Shalamar's _A Night To Remember_ came pounding through the speakers. She threw her head back and raised up one of her arms.

"Oooh, this is my song." She pulled him closer to her. "Come one, Man In Black. Show me what you got."

She moved her hips to the beat as she lifted up her arms and twirled in a circle. She dropped it low to the ground and came back up again. He had been modest about his rhythmic skills. He didn't try anything too out there, but he kept up with her and kept time to the music. Step by step they moved closer to each other until they were toe to toe grooving together. Only a sliver of space was between them. When the song changed from the up-tempo jam to a George Michael ballad his hands immediately grabbed her waist and pulled her even closer. They moved together as the soulful words and saxophone took them to another place.

Sometimes he had the kindest most gentleness stare she's ever seen and then there were times like that moment where his eyes were so intense she had to look away. He didn't let her eyes drift away this time. He grabbed her chin and turned her back towards him.

"This is nice," he said.

"It is. You're a better dancer than you let on."

"Guess we judge ourselves the harshest."

"Yeah."

"I liked that first song we danced to. What's it called?"

" _A Night To Remember."_

"Words to live by."

"Indeed."

His arms circled around her waist again. It felt natural for her to lay her head on his chest so she did as he led her in their slow dance. She could hear him humming the rhythm of the song under his breath.

She lifted her head. "You sing too? Man of many talents."

"Nah. Just a good hummer."

She became lost in his stare again. "You're as mysterious as a real man in black."

He lifted up a corner of his mouth. "That's funny. I was just thinkin' you're the type of woman I could tell everything to."

She laid her forehead on his chest. "Gotdamn you."

"What?"

She looked up at the sky, and closed her eyes wondering why God was testing her like that. She looked backed at him and smiled. "Nothing. All this dancing is making me thirsty. Buy me another drink?"

He pulled away from her. "Sure thing. You want more Bourbon?"

"No, I think I've had enough alcohol tonight. I can go for a bottle of water."

"Two bottles of water coming up. I'll be right back." He squeezed her hip as he passed by.

She took her compact out of her purse and checked to see if she looked as warm as she suddenly felt. Her face had a sheen of sweat from dancing, but otherwise she looked fine to herself. She checked her watched. It was five minutes until midnight. She was afraid it was almost time for her to turn back into a pumpkin, and she wasn't ready for the night to end.

* * *

Ten more songs and five more bottles are water later their dancing feet grew tired. She leaned against him as she adjusted the strap on the gold sandals.

"I bet you wishin' you brought an extra pair of shoes," he said.

She laughed. "Like you wouldn't believe."

"Take 'em off. Walking barefoot gotta be better than suffering with every step."

"This is the city not the country. We don't do that here."

"Score one for the country then."

She put her hands on her hips and tilted her head to the side. "You don't think I'll do it, do you?"

"You tell me."

While not taking her eyes off of him, she slipped shoes off. "There. What you have to say now?"

"I'll say your feet are just as pretty as the rest of you, and that's somethin'. Most people have ugly feet."

You pointed down to his feet encased in black dress shoes. "Show me what you're working with then."

"Nah. I'm one of those most with the ugly feet."

"Seems to me a true country boy wouldn't care if his feet were ugly or not."

"You trying to turn the tables on me?"

"If the shoe," she hit him light of the chest with the side of her gold heels, "fits."

"I never step down from a challenge." He bent down the untie his shoes. He slipped them off then his black dress socks. His feet were bigger than they looked in his shoes, but otherwise unremarkable. Neither ugly or pretty.

She took in the sight of them, standing in the middle of a downtown sidewalk barefoot and threw her head back in a laugh. "When I started this night, I would have never guessed this is where I would end up."

He smiled down at her. "You have the best laugh. It's impossible not to feel good when I hear it. I wouldn't of guessed I would have ended here either after attending a funeral. I was planning to just go back to my hotel after a quick drink. I couldn't be happier to be here right now though."

"You have a way with words. Are you sure you aren't a writer too, Rick? Or is it Rich or Ricky?"

"Never was much of a writer. And my mom used to call me Ricky. To everyone else I'm just Rick."

"And to me?"

"To you, I'm your Man In Black."

She walked up closer to him and stood on her tip toes. Her lips were a centimeter away from his. "You know what would make this night even better?"

He looked down at her lips and licked his before meeting her eyes again. "What's that?"

She pointed to a STOP sign a block away. "Me leaving you in the dust as we race to that sign."

He eyes followed where she was pointing. "You think you can beat me?"

"Uh uh. I know I can beat you, country boy."

"Now, I should warn you that I jog every morning."

"Jogging ain't sprinting. People in this city call me Young Flo Jo."

He crossed his arms and looked her up and down. "Do they really?"

"No," she shrugged and laughed. "But I did run track in high school and I'm fast as hell."

He clapped his hands together. "OK, let's do this right. Line up right next to me. On the count of three we take off."

She tucked her purse under arm and gripped her heels in her hand.

"One, two, three," they said in unison and then took off. The pounding of their bare feet on the cement were drown out by the cars rushing by on the busy street and the people still milling around outside the bars and clubs. He was slowed down by having to dodge a couple of those people giving them strange looks. She reached the STOP sign a half-second before him.

She jumped up and down and raised her arms in the air as if she was Rocky. "I won! I beat you! Young Flo Jo strikes again."

He laughed at her jumping around celebrating her victory as he tried to catch his breath.

"Well, Flo, you may not yet be forty, but I am and my body is old. All the wind has left my body and my whole right side is hurting. I think you broke this country boy."

She put her arms around his waist. "Aww, I sorry, my Man In Black. What can I do to make it better?"

He looked down at where her arms were wrapped around him. "This helps."

"So maybe I should just keep my arms here."

"I think you should."

She laid her chin her his chest and looked up at him. "You know what else will help?"

"What's that?"

She pointed at the building they were standing in front of. "We're at a bowling, alley. Prepare to get you butt whupped once again."

* * *

Michonne wasn't one to wear rented shoes, but after having walking and dancing in heels for so many hours, she was very happy to be wearing those comfy shoes as she admired Rick's form as he bent over to take his first turn on the lanes. He had taken off his suit and had his white, buttoned-down shirt rolled up at the sleeves.

He turned and winked at her as she sat at the scorer's table. "You may have beat me in that race, my this is my territory now. I pretty much got this in the bag."

She crossed her legs and sat back, and made the talking gesture with her hands. "All I hear is a bunch of talk and no action."

"I bowled a 160 in college on the regular."

"Prove it."

He tossed the bowling ball down the lane in one fluid motion and turned away before the ball made it to the end, striking down all the pins. He held his hands out and shrugged. "What I tell ya?"

"Beginners luck." She rose and took out her ball. She bent her knees and let the ball fly out of fingers right into the gutter."

"Shit!" She yelled out, earning her the attention of a family of five bowling in the lane next to theirs. "Sorry," she said as she rolled her eyes at Rick laughing. "Oh stop. That was just a bit of snafu on my part. The ball slipped from my fingers."

"The Pretty Girl has excuses when she loses, I see."

She bumped his shoulder with hers. "No excuses. Just truth."

"Uh huh." He made his way back to the lane to take his turn. It was like déjà vu as he hit another strike.

She crossed her arms again and sucked her teeth. When he sat back down next to her, she turned to the side and leaned against the back of the seat with her head propped up with her hand. "I concede. You are much better at this than me."

He saluted and bowed to her. "Thank you, my Pretty Lady."

She giggled. "And ever the gracious winner. How'd you get so good. Just in college?"

"Well, you know my town doesn't have much in the way of entertainment. Besides the bar there's the bowling alley. It's where my parents used to take me and my friends every weekend when we were kids."

"Where they as good as you?"

He smirked. "Mama was. Dad had more of your skills."

She laughed and hit him on his shoulder. "What would they say if they knew you were over here taunting a woman?"

The smirk dropped from his face. He started to pick at a thread on his pants. "Both Mama and Dad died a few years ago. Car accident."

She placed her hand on his forearm. "I'm sorry."

He nodded. "I guess you know how it feels, with you dad and all."

"Yeah." She bit her lip. "My mom died too. Years ago, when I was a teenager."

"Damn."

"Yeah."

"It's hard."

"About the hardest thing ever."

"I keep thinking about the kid from the funeral earlier. Hoping he can survive losing a parent so young."

"People are quite resilient when we need to be."

"I just hate that we need to be so much."

"Preaching to the choir over here."

The stared at each other before he reached over to tuck one of her locs behind her ear. "You have really incredible eyes," he said.

"That's funny. I was just thinking the same thing about yours."

He smiled at her and looked at her lips then back to her eyes again. He grabbed the hand that still laid on his forearm. He kissed it, and placed it over his heart. "Thank you for tonight. It's been special. I'm having the time of my life."

Her whole body felt warm. She just knew he felt it through her hands. Not ready to look at him full on she held her eyes down and focused on their hands. "It's been special for me too."

He looked at the clock on the back wall of the bowling alley. "It's still not too late. Another round?"

"Sounds like a plan. Watch out for a comeback," she said finally getting the nerve to look him in the eyes again.

He winked at her. "I'm counting on it."

* * *

"Nothing like ending the night with greasy fries," Michonne said as she wiped her hands on the white napkins.

"They're not worth eating if the grease not dripping down your fingers."

She laughed. "Ew."

They had found the man-made lake that stood in the middle of downtown as a tourist attraction. By that time most people had ended their night, and they were one of two couples sitting on the grass and staring out at the water. Rick had been a gentleman and laid his suit jacket on the grass so she could sit without getting her dress dirty.

"There's a place in my town called Madge's that makes fries so good that everything that came before and after pales in comparison."

"Sounds like something I need to try."

"You should. You'd like Madge too. She barks at people like an army drill Sargent, but deep down is the sweetest person you could meet."

"She sounds like my senior year Trig professor."

"You were taking Trig in your senior year of college? What was your major?"

"Mathematics."

"Whoa. Now I'm impressed. Pretty Girl is a genius."

She scoffed. "Hardly. I'm just really good with numbers."

"So what do you do for a living?"

"I'm an Investment Analyst for this huge firm. My minor was finance. Or I was. My last day was a couple of weeks ago."

He blew out a whistle. "Sounds fancy."

"It wasn't. Mostly boring and mundane."

"It's that part of the reason you're jetting around the world? To break up the mundane?"

"In a way, yes. I want to make some new memories. Some good memories. I don't what to be seventy years old and look at my life and seeing mostly work and living for the weekend."

He nodded. "I get that. Sometimes memories are all we have to live on. What's your first memory?"

She chewed on her fry as she thought. "Probably when I almost drowned. I think I was maybe three or four. A girl was playing around in the little kiddie pool that was next to the grown-up one. She pushed me under and I didn't know how to come back up. My grandmother saw what was going on and pulled me out. I was scared of the water for many years, but now it's where I feel most free."

"That's some memory to be your first."

"I know. What's yours?"

"My little town is bordered my train tracks. They run behind most of the neighborhoods. I remember walking down the tracks with my mom as we went to the grocery store."

"Do you miss them? Your parents?"

"Everyday."

"Yeah. I know that feeling."

"How did they die, if you don't mind me askin.'"

"Mom died of cancer when I was seventeen. It was long battle, with short periods of remission, but she eventually succumbed. My dad died a year ago from the same type of leukemia Mom had. So far me and my brother are healthy, but it it's a family trait I want to do all the living while I can."

"So you decided to jet set."

"Yep. My brother and most of my friends think I'm crazy to do it alone, but it's my life not theirs."

"I respect that."

She smiled at him. "Thanks." He passed her the large coke the were sharing and she took a long drink. "How's life at home for you."

"It's good enough, I guess. Got a couple of close friends, an ex-wife that I'm cordial with. No siblings. No kids. I get to take my pictures. It could be worse so I not gonna complain."

"Seems nothing's tethering you there though."

"No. Not really."

She closed her eyes as he looked at her with that intensity that she'd started to both crave and shy away from in the few short hours she'd known him. When she opened them again he was looking out at the water. Her fingers - as if they had a mind of their own – reached out to rub across his beard. He turned back to face her as her thumb trailed along his lips. He puckered up and placed a kiss on it.

"So you're really going to go see the world, Pretty Girl," his voice was tinged with a layer of sadness. A sadness she somehow felt in her heart too.

"I am."

"Then the world is very lucky."

She smiled at him. She looked out into the water and started singing, _What the world sees now is love, sweet love. That's the only thing I'm thinking of,_ to try to break the mood.

He started laughing. "OK, one, I don't think those lyrics are right. And two, there's so much that's perfect about you, but the good lord didn't bless you with a singin' voice."

She hit him on his shoulder. "I'm no Whitney Houston but my voice isn't that bad."

"No, no, no. Not Whitney Houston. Or Whitney Smith that was in my kindergarten class. Or Whitney Turner in that works in the supermarket in my town."

"Well at least I'm not Whitty Huton," she said while laughing.

"Who?"

She laughed again and wiped at eyes. "Never mind. The next competition we need is a karaoke battle."

He used a napkin to help her wipe away her tears of laughter. "That would be nice, but you're leaving."

The reality of his words sobered her up and stopped the laughter. "Yeah. I'm leaving." She sighed. "What time is it?"

He pointed at the sky as the sun rose over the skyline in the east. "It's morning."

She laid her hand on his shoulder as they watched the sun make it's journey through the sky. "It came so soon."

"It did."

After a few more minutes, she sighed again and stood. "My flight's at noon. I should get home and get my bags together."

"Yeah. OK." He stood too and tossed their empty food wrappers into the trash can.

"My building's only a couple blocks away. You want to walk me there?"

He smiled. "Yeah, I really would like that." Even though the sun was shining a rare summer chill was in the air. He put his jacket around her shoulders then took her hand in his and they began to walk.

Her apartment was on the sixth floor in one of the buildings the city had renovated recently. It was neat, clean, and minimalist.

He looked around. "This is nice. I never seen apartment that didn't have a least a little bit of a mess, but your place is spotless."

"I'm a bit of a neat freak, and I also don't like a lot of stuff. It keeps the mess away." She kicked off her heels and walked down the hall to the bedroom. "Help yourself to whatever's in the fridge. I'm going to take a quick shower and I'll be right out."

She appeared twenty minutes later wearing an oversized sweatshirt, a pair of dark colored slim jeans, and a pair of black Chuck Taylors. All of her locs were piled on top of her head in a bun. A carry-on bag was thrown over her shoulder with a rolling suitcase pulling behind her.

He looked her over from head to toe. "I knew you'd look just as good dressed down as dressed up."

She looked down at herself. "That's good to know because I'm usually more dressed down than up."

He pointed to her bags. "That's all you taking?"

"I don't think I need much more than this. I told you I don't like a lot of stuff."

He looked around. "What happens to your apartment while you're gone."

"My cousin is going to sublet it."

"Seems like you've worked everything out."

"Months of planning. I'm in a bit of disbelief that the day in finally here."

He just gave her that sad smile again, but said nothing.

Her phone buzzed and she unlocked her screen to see the notification. "I ordered a Lyft before my shower. He's here."

He took both her bags from her. "Then let me walk you down."

She turned to him when they made it to the sidewalk. "This may be presumptuous of me to ask, but do you want to ride to the airport with me?"

The corners of his mouth lifted. "I can't think of anything else I rather be doing right now."

She exhaled and grinned up at him. "Good."

They settled in the backseat of the car after she told the driver which airport she was going to.

"You do realize that you've agreed to do everything I've ask of you since we met each other a few hours ago."

He laughed and scratched at his eyebrow. "Yeah, I've noticed that pattern too."

The driver looked at them through the rearview mirror. "Y'all mind if I play some music," he asked?

Both shook their heads no. Soon sounds of eighties R&B music filled the car. The driver snapped his fingers to _A Night To Remember_ as the two of them looked over at each other and smiled. Their gazes didn't hold for long as they looked out their respective windows, each lost in their own thoughts. Just like their night together, the ride to the airport ended too soon. He got out of the car to pull her bags from the trunk. She realized she still had his jacket in her hands."

"Sorry, I almost took this with me." She tried to hand it back to him.

He put his hands up and shook his head. "You keep it. It might be cold on the plane."

She clutched it to her chest. "OK."

He placed her carry-on on her shoulder and her suitcase handle in her hand. His arms circled her waist in the now familiar gesture. He smiled at her then kissed her forehead, her nose, and finally landing a chaste but lingering kiss on her lips.

"Thank you for giving me a night to remember. Goodbye, Pretty Lady."

She brought her hand up to caress his cheek. "Bye, my Man In Black."

"Maybe I'll see you again after you conquer the world."

"Maybe."

She turned and walked away. The sliding glass doors became blurry as tears started to descend from her eyes. Many times through out of her life she had begged God to explain to her how he could be so cruel, and at the moment she felt like shouting to the heavens once again. She used the back on her hand to wipe at her eyes when she felt a strong grip on her shoulder. She looked back right into Rick's pleading eyes.

"Michonne, wait."


End file.
